


The Pleasure is Mine

by littlebun416



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebun416/pseuds/littlebun416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Greg walks in on the boys, the boys invite Greg to stay, and naughty things ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pleasure is Mine

**Author's Note:**

> *PLEASE NOTE: This is my second story ever and my first attempt at smut (shameless, shameless smut). I really did intend to make it nice and long, but several days worth of multiple stories running through my head and a desire to get it out there fast shortened this piece significantly.
> 
> Please tell me if this is awful or meh or good, I appreciate any feedback!
> 
> Also note, this is not beta'd and not Brit-picked so apologies for any errors. If anyone would be willing to be a beta I will love you forever and send you endless digital hugs.

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade chose the entirely wrong moment to walk through the open door of 221B Baker Street.

He gaped at the sight before him. John lay on top of Sherlock on the couch, snogging him within an inch of his life. A soft moan escaped one of the men, Greg was not sure which, and he realized with a shock that he was getting hard. He quickly tried to back track and get out before either man noticed, but either he wasn’t as quiet as he had hoped to be or they weren’t as distracted as they seemed to be. 

Sherlock gently pushed John’s shoulder in order to lift his head and look at Greg.

“Ah, Lestrade. To what do we owe the pleasure.” He said coolly.

Greg was unable to answer, from shock at both the sight before him and Sherlock’s seemingly undisturbed demeanor.

Sherlock’s eyes drifted to the D.I.’s tented pants and a self-satisfied smirk rested on his lips. 

“Ah, it seems it is in fact your pleasure. Would you care to come in?” John had not moved from his position atop Sherlock, he looked as though he didn’t know if he should ask Greg to leave or ask him to stay. Greg stood, at a loss for a few moments unsure, hesitating, and then decidedly shut the door behind him and walked into the room a few more steps. Sherlock stood, gently pushing John off of him. He stalked over to Greg like a hungry predator. He circled and stopped behind him, leaning his chest close to Greg’s back. His warm breath ghosted over Lestrade’s ear, causing him to shudder. 

“Would you care to join us?” He murmured, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and sending vibrations through Greg’s back. His mouth went dry. He looked to John still on the couch, who looked up hopefully at the scene in front of him. All Greg could do was nod mutely.

“Good.” was Sherlock’s only reply. He put his hands on Lestrade’s back and guided him to the couch. Greg sat next to John as Sherlock sat on his other side, sandwiching him between the two men. Wordlessly, he pushed Lestrade back and reached across him to put his hand on the side of John’s neck. He pulled the man toward himself and, with a sly look toward the D.I., parted his lips ever so slightly and descended upon John’s mouth. A hum of approval emanated from John’s chest and he enthusiastically returned the kiss. Greg let slip a soft, “Christ” as he took in the sight before him. He could see Sherlock smirk into John’s mouth.

They kissed for what felt like ages, though Greg felt like he could have gone on watching forever. The two moved perfectly in tandem, never a moment of awkwardness or hesitation. Eventually John pulled back slightly, eyes shining, and looked at Sherlock questioningly. Sherlock must have understood what John was silently asking, as he simply nodded and sat back.

John’s hand snaked up to cup the side of Greg’s face. He gently, almost timidly, brushed his lips against Greg’s, allowing him to pull back if he did not want to continue. John could feel the quickening of his breath and his eyes followed Greg’s tongue, which flashed out to lick his lips. The D.I. did not pull away. John took that as the go ahead to continue. He plunged forward, almost leading Greg in the kiss as if in a dance. Lestrade felt himself getting almost achingly hard and moaned into John’s mouth. 

Suddenly, he felt Sherlock at his side, tilting his head to fit in the crook of Greg’s neck. Before he had a chance to wonder what the man was doing, he felt soft kisses and nips being placed on every reachable bit of flesh. He melted into John’s mouth, and he heard Sherlock practically purr in contentment. 

I warm hand rested on his thigh, he didn’t know whom it belonged to but in that moment he didn’t care. John pulled back to attach himself to the other side of Greg’s neck. He let his head fall back to the sofa with a thump. This was so utterly ridiculous, he thought, but he was too overloaded with the sensations of the two men leaving trails of kisses and bites and licks down either side of his neck to care. The hand on his thigh snaked its way closer to his cock, which twitched in anticipation. His slacks suddenly felt way too tight and the air too hot for the amount of clothing he was wearing. Sherlock began to kiss his way up Greg’s jaw toward his mouth to take his share of the man.

Greg noted how differently the two men kissed; John was all soft and pliant, sort of went with the flow of the moment, while Sherlock took charge and made it clear who was in control. He dominated Lestrade’s mouth for several heated minutes before letting go and leaning across to kiss John again. The hand at his thigh cupped his straining erection, causing him to close his eyes and moan low and loud. He looked down to see that it was John’s hand that had been there the whole time, but Sherlock, not to be outdone, began tugging at Greg’s shirt to lift it off of him. He lifted his arms and allowed his shirt to be removed. John immediately latched on to his chest and began licking and kissing all across the new expanse of skin. Sherlock worked on his belt while simultaneously trying to remove his own clothing and John’s. For a few minutes they became a flurry of limbs and fabric, all desperate to get as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. When finally all three men were down to just pants, Sherlock hooked a finger into Greg’s waistband and looked into his eyes, silently asking for permission to continue.

Lestrade gave a desperate nod and Sherlock sank to his knees in front of him. Greg lifted his hips and Sherlock tugged his pants down. A brief moment’s pause and Sherlock surged forward, licking a stripe up the underside of Greg’s entire length. A moan ripped through his throat at the sensation and the sight of Sherlock’s tongue circling around the head of his cock. He teased at the tip for a moment before taking the entire length into his mouth. Lestrade struggled to maintain some control and not thrust desperately when he felt the tip hit the back of Sherlock’s throat. A breathy “Christ” was drawn from his mouth, and his head fell back against the sofa. 

He could feel John chuckling next to him as he was nuzzling into his neck, the gentle and almost innocent gesture a beautiful contrast to the intensity of the pleasure he was feeling below. The doctor whispered into his ear, “Isn’t it such a lovely way to finally shut him up?” Greg’s huff of laughter was quickly turned into another loud moan when Sherlock took him in particularly deep and swirled his tongue around the tip. “Greg?” He turned to John in reply, who gave him a gentle kiss before saying, “I’d really like to fuck you.”

Oh.

_Oh. ___

“Bloody hell, please fuck me.” He groaned. Suddenly the wet heat was gone from his cock and Sherlock was crawling up his body to capture Lestrade in a searing hot kiss. He broke it only to grab Lestrade by the hips and flip him over so that he was lying face down into the sofa. A trail of feather light kisses made its way down his spine and to the cleft of his backside. Without warning, Sherlock shoved his tongue deep inside of Greg, working him open. Greg moaned louder than ever into the cushions of the sofa. As Sherlock continued his onslaught, the D.I. turned to look at John, who had removed his pants and was lazily fisting his own cock. His eyes burned with desire and pleasure at the scene before him. Sherlock pulled out to replace his tongue with two fingers. Greg hissed at the slight burn, but it only lasted a few seconds and slowly dissolved into pleasure. After a minute or two, a third finger was added, and Sherlock moved and stretched to open Greg just enough that the pain of John wouldn’t be unbearable.

Sherlock moved to shimmy out of his pants and kneel on the floor beside Greg and John, who had taken place behind the Detective Inspector. John kissed his shoulder and pressed himself to Greg’s entrance. He slowly began to push inside and in that moment nothing else in the world mattered except for John Watson’s cock buried deep in his ass. When he was pressed in to the hilt he waited to allow Lestrade some time to adjust. The pain was already ebbing away and Greg let out a gruff, “Move.” John pulled out almost all the way, and slammed back in with a rough snap of the hips. Greg cried out and gripped the cushions hard. John continued to pump in and out while Lestrade’s cries became an endless litany of curses and praise. 

“Christ, John. Fuck. So bloody good. Fucking hell.”

John seemed to become more frantic and aroused by the stream of unfiltered words coming from Lestrade’s mouth. John moaned, “Jesus, Greg.” Suddenly, Sherlock was grabbing the back of Greg’s neck and turning his head to kiss him hard and open-mouthed. Their tongues swirled and fought until Sherlock won out and Greg was no more than a moaning mess beneath the two men. When Sherlock could tell that John was reaching his climax, he reached down and began to fist Lestrade’s cock, hard and fast. He came hard in a matter of seconds, clenching down on John and causing him to thrust hard once, twice, three times until his hips stuttered and slowed.

John pulled out and lay panting on the floor, while Greg turned and sat with his head fallen back on the sofa. Sherlock was still hard and his eyes glinted with mischievous intent. He crawled on his knees closer to Lestrade until his cock was inches away from his face. Sherlock began to pump his length through his hand while Lestrade watched, enraptured by the sight and Sherlock’s icy eyes locked with his. Sherlock’s breath became erratic and Greg, in a moment of daring, slowly drew forward, eyes never leaving Sherlock’s. Just as he reached to tip of Sherlock’s cock, he grabbed Sherlock’s hand to still it and wrapped his tongue around the tip. Sherlock moaned, a sound so deep and sensual it would forever be ingrained in Greg’s memory. He watched Sherlock through his lashes as he continued to bob up and down. He used his hand to pump at the base, fast and hard so his tongue could lazily circle the tip. Soon, Sherlock was crying out and releasing into Greg’s mouth.

He swallowed every drop and leaned up to kiss Sherlock slowly, allowing him to taste himself in Greg’s mouth. Sherlock hummed in appreciation and drew back, reaching over to pull John and Greg up onto the sofa with him. They all lay in a heap of limbs, lazily kissing whatever bit of exposed flesh happened to be nearest, no matter who it belonged to.

“Greg?” John asked, to which he looked over hmm’d in response. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” The sparkle in John’s eye and Sherlock’s low chuckle told him exactly what type of dinner they were planning on having.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

He grinned and let his head fall back with a huff of laughter.


End file.
